Blue Lips
by Swing Girl At Heart
Summary: Puck is the only one with Finn when it happens.


_Blue Lips_

Puck is the only one with Finn when it happens.

It's Friday night, they're both home on a long weekend from college, and they've spent the past couple hours hanging out at the Lima bowling alley. After Puck kicks Finn's ass with three strikes in a row in their second round, they get sodas to go and head out to the parking lot. It's still early – only about nine o'clock.

"You sure you don't want to hit up 7-11 for some Red Bull or something?" Puck asks, swinging the keys to his car around his finger.

Finn shakes his head, swallowing his last slurp of root beer. "Nah, I told my mom I'd watch a movie with her when I get back."

Puck snorts. "Lame."

Finn shrugs. He winces, rubbing at his temple.

"You okay, dude?"

"Yeah, just a headache." Finn gives his head a little shake.

"Well, I'll probably see you tomorrow," Puck says.

"Yeah, see you." Finn gives a short wave as he heads towards his truck a few parking spots down from Puck's, digging his keys out of his pocket.

Puck sets his soda on the roof of his car as he unlocks it, climbing into the driver's seat. He pulls out his cell phone to check for messages before he turns the car on, seeing only a text from his mom reminding him that he has to babysit his sister tomorrow morning.

He's about to shove his phone back into his pocket and start up the car when he hears the horn of Finn's truck blare loudly from the other side of the parking lot, and it doesn't turn off. A young couple just heading into the bowling alley turn around and frown in the direction of the noise for a moment as they go inside.

Puck sighs and climbs back out of the car. Finn's truck is so run-down, he wouldn't be the least bit surprised if the horn suddenly gave and got stuck.

_You'd think with his stepdad being a freaking mechanic, it'd be in better shape,_ Puck thinks, mentally rolling his eyes as he crosses the parking lot.

When he reaches Finn's truck, though, Finn is slumped over in the driver's seat, his shoulder pressing on the steering wheel with enough pressure to keep the horn going. Puck stops short for a minute, not really understanding what he's seeing. He knocks hard on the window by Finn's head, but Finn doesn't move.

The horn is _really freaking loud_.

Puck swallows, feeling sick all of a sudden, and he pulls the truck's door open. "Dude—?" He jumps back as Finn, no longer supported by the door, falls out of the truck's cab and lands hard on the pavement at Puck's feet with a heavy thud. The horn dies with a wobbly, deflated note.

"Finn!" Puck shouts, dropping to his knees and shaking Finn's shoulders. He's now thoroughly terrified, his heart racing in his chest. "Finn, wake up!"

_Why isn't Finn moving?!_

Puck lifts Finn's head off the pavement, trying to make it easier for Finn to breathe. He doesn't know what's happening, but he's seen enough injuries on the football field to know a thing or two.

"_Finn!_" he shouts again, barely able to hear his own voice over the roar in his ears.

"Hey, is everything okay?"

Puck's head snaps up to see a man standing a few feet away, watching them with concern. "Call 911!" he orders, his fingers digging into Finn's shoulder. The man quickly pulls out his phone and does as he's told, running back into the bowling alley to get help.

Finn's eyes are half-closed and vacant, like he's just dozed off, and he's not responding to Puck's shouts. Puck swallows the bile in his throat and tries to get ahold of his nerves, counting to three and muttering almost-incoherent prayers as he presses two fingers to the side of Finn's neck. A breath rushes out of his lungs in relief when he feels the pulse – he doesn't know if it's too slow or too fast or what, but it's _there_.

"Come on, man, wake up!" Puck begs, his heart banging incessantly against his ribs. "_Finn!_"

He doesn't know how long it takes for the ambulance to arrive, but then he's being shoved aside by the EMTs and he feels even more useless than before. There are about a dozen people milling around the parking lot, watching the paramedics poke and prod at Finn's limbs, and then Finn is loaded onto a stretcher and pushed into the back of the ambulance, and the doors slam shut behind him.

"W-Wait!" Puck runs after them, out of breath from panic and adrenaline. "Can I ride with him? I'm his friend."

The EMT shakes her head. "Sorry, kid. You can meet him at St. Rita's." She jumps into the ambulance's cab, leaving Puck standing in the middle of the parking lot and helplessly watching the ambulance pull away.

He's frozen in shock for several seconds before he realizes he should call Finn's mom.

* * *

><p>Rachel wakes up exactly three minutes before her alarm, and, as per her usual morning routine, immediately begins getting ready for the day ahead. She mentally runs through her schedule as she quickly gets dressed and applies her makeup, and is so preoccupied that she fails to notice that she doesn't hear Kurt getting ready on the other side of the loft. With a final fluff of her hair to make it fall just right, Rachel heads to the kitchen area for breakfast.<p>

She finds Kurt dead asleep at the table, still in the jeans and hoodie he was wearing when she went to bed. He's fallen asleep on his arm, his other hand still clutching his phone. Rachel frowns at Kurt's back as she places the kettle on the stovetop, wondering if he's had another long-distance argument with Blaine. Fiancés were meant to bicker all the time, after all.

Glancing at the clock, Rachel realizes she'll have to wake Kurt up so that he won't be late to work. She feels bad – Kurt looks like he's had a rough night – but their boss is a tyrant when it comes to punctuality (she's pretty sure he's _actually _a Nazi), and Kurt has the early shift today.

"Kurt," she nudges him gently. "Kurt, wake up."

Kurt abruptly jolts up, his phone dropping from his hand and clattering onto the floor. He doesn't notice. There are darkened circles underneath his eyes, which seem to be having a difficult time focusing, and his cheeks are covered in stubble. He's got a red crease down the side of his face from sleeping on a wrinkle in his sleeve. Rachel blinks, noticing that every one of his fingernails has been chewed.

"Kurt, what happened?" she asks, immediately sitting in the chair next to him. "Are you alright?"

Kurt digs the heel of his hand into his right eye, and when he opens his eyes again Rachel realizes they look glazed and bloodshot.

"Were you up all night?"

"I, um…" Kurt swallows, tugging at his hair. His lips tighten, and he bends over to pick up his phone. "What – what time is it?" he says to himself, glancing at the screen. "I'm going to be late." He starts to stand up, but Rachel puts a hand on his arm.

"Kurt, maybe you need a day off. I'm sure Gunther will understand," she says quickly, even though she's actually quite sure Gunther _won't_ understand. But Kurt looks so terrible that Rachel's more than willing to take the brunt of Gunther's wrath for him. "Relax, go back to bed."

Kurt stares at her, and there's something in his expression that makes Rachel's stomach twist in her abdomen. The back of her neck prickles.

"What? What is it?"

Kurt's Adam's apple bobs in his throat, and his face contracts slightly like he's buckling under pressure. "My dad called last night," he says quietly, his voice hoarse. He sounds like he's been crying for hours, and Rachel is suddenly struck with guilt that she wasn't awake all night with him.

"Is he okay?" she has to ask, wondering if Burt's cancer has returned.

Kurt's gaze suddenly drops to the table, like he can't look her in the eye anymore, and his mouth twists as a single sob wrenches out of his chest. He covers his eyes with his hand, his shoulders curling forward.

"Oh, sweetie," Rachel quickly moves to wrap her arms around his frame, planting a kiss on his rumpled hair. She can feel his entire body shaking.

"They— they said—" Kurt starts again, struggling to get the words out. Rachel leans back to give him more room to breathe. "They said they don't know wh-what happened—"

Her heart sinks. Something is awfully _permanent_ about the way Kurt's speaking, and Rachel doesn't know why but she's beginning to feel sick.

"Kurt, _what is going on?_" she presses.

Kurt pulls a deep breath in through his nose, blinking tears out of his eyes as he tries to compose himself. He coughs harshly. "Finn's gone," he says. His voice is weirdly flat all of a sudden, and Rachel's pretty sure she's misheard him.

"What do you…?" she trails off.

After that, everything fades into a numbing blur. Later, Rachel can vaguely remember screaming at Kurt through the roar in her ears, begging him to admit he was lying until she lost the energy to continue. She can barely recollect her phone ringing again and again and again as her dads tried to reach her, until she got sick of the noise and threw it against the wall. She doesn't remember Santana coming home from the graveyard shift. She doesn't remember Kurt leaving for the airport.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This is a partner fic to my Carole-centric oneshot, Icarus, though each of them can be taken as a standalone.**


End file.
